


Laughter in the Walls

by RyunnKazan



Series: Laughter in the Walls [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Suicide, Rumbelle Revelry 2017, halloween fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 18:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12513264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyunnKazan/pseuds/RyunnKazan
Summary: Belle and her son Gideon move into an old house in Storybrooke to begin a fresh start. However, they find their home already occupied by a “residential haunter”.





	1. Chapter 1

“Well?” Belle inquired with a sunny smile as she pulled the Cadillac into her and her son’s new home.

Gideon French glanced up from his phone to survey the decrepit house his mother was “forcing” him to move into. If he were still in his goth phase he would have appraised her choice, but since he’d reverted back to society’s acceptable standards for well over six months, he found the house before him a dump.

“It’s great. I hope the rats plan to split the water bill.”

Belle gave her son an indulgent look and stepped out of the car. Her son had had a rough year and she knew he needed to let his steam off in choppy sarcastic remarks, which she allowed as long as he didn’t cross the line ].

“It’s got so much potential.” Belle encouraged as she intertwined her arm with her son’s. “It’s the oldest house on the east coast, nearly 150 years old. Oh look at these stained-glass windows!” She arched on her tiptoes to give her boy a kiss on the cheek. “And most importantly, it’s all ours.”

Gideon allowed his mother to pull him to the porch, watching his step just in case the ancient wood gave way.  He reached out to peel a line of curling pain from the wall.

“What color is this, digested Pepto-Bismol?”

“I think it’s called salmon. And don’t do that.” She ordered, pulling his hand back.

“Is the paint holding this house together?” Gideon quipped.

Belle sighed, the exhaustion of the six-hour drive and her son’s overall pessimism dampening her cheery mood. 

Gideon glanced at her defeated look and forced a supporting smile.

“It’s great mom, really. It’s just…different. I need a little time to get used to it.”

Belle smiled and rested her weary head against his arm. She really had a great son despite everything.

Belle had gotten pregnant at a rather early age by her then boyfriend Will Scarlet. The look of disappointment on her mother’s face when she told her parents made Belle blush with shame even 17 years later. Will, despite being impulsively immature, agreed to support her in whatever she decided to do. With her mother’s vague advice to “do the brave thing”, Belle decided to keep the baby. Will unfortunately couldn’t kick into his paternal instincts and he and Belle separated quietly. Other than a few sporadic child-support payments, he hadn’t kept in contact with Belle or his son.

Belle and Gideon moved in with Belle’s parents and found contentment in their small family and lived comfortably for many years. It wasn’t until the sudden death of the French family matriarch that the peaceful existence shattered. Mr. French sold his house and moved back to the family home in Australia to grieve, and rather than make her son start over in a whole new country, Belle took her half of the money and started looking for a new place to live.

It was during a grueling night of research that she came across an opened librarian’s position in a town called Storybrooke, Maine. A few more clicks and she discovered a house for sale in the same area. It was too good to be true, especially when she saw that the house was priced at just what was in her budget.

Gideon had been less enthusiastic about leaving the city but had no choice but to follow his mother into the unknown.

“A fresh paint of coat and curtains and it’ll be good as new.” Belle promised.

Gideon sighed. “If you say so mum.”

A loud pop broke the two from their musing. They turned to see a Ford truck pull in just behind the Cadillac, a petite woman with long black hair rushing out, nearly dropping the load of files she was carrying.

“Hi!” she greeted breathlessly, stopping at the first step. “Sorry I’m late!”

“No problem.” Belle assured. “You must be the real estate agent.”

The woman nodded and extended her hand. “Mary Margaret Nolan, it’s nice to meet you!”

Belle shook her hand and nodded towards her son. “This is my son Gideon.”

“Oh how nice.” Mary Margaret smiled. “You’re about the same age as my son.” She turned back towards the truck. “Neal!”

The passenger door of the truck opened and a blond teen stepped out, removing his headphones unpleasantly.

A series of looks was shot between the two before the boy stomped up the stairs beside Mrs. Nolan.

“This is my son, Neal.” Mary Margaret introduced through clenched teeth and strangely putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him from going up the steps. “He’s…helping me today.”

“You mean I’m your prisoner for today.” Neal muttered.

“Neal.” Mary Margaret growled in a warning tone Belle recognized from any mother. She could also recognize that Neal was trying not to roll his eyes.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Neal.” Belle jumped in.

“Ma’am.” Neal greeted, a twinge of relief in inspiring green eyes.

“This is Gideon.” Belle introduced. She glanced at her son to signal him to introduce himself but found her son staring at Neal with just a hint of blush on his sharp cheeks.

Belle contained her amused smile, knowing instantly that her son was smitten. She glanced at the Nolans, finding Mary Margaret seemingly oblivious while Neal looked down at the porch with a slight smirk on his lips.

“So anyway.”  Mary Margaret intervened, pulling a manila folder out of the stack. “Here’s a copy of the deed, the skeleton key and the spares to the garage and the basement.”

Belle took hold of the mass of keys with one hand and the deed with the others. The second her fingertips grazed the manila envelope a violent burst of wind swept over the porch, causing the papers to flee into the yard.

Neal and Mary Margaret raced down the steps to catch the papers. Just as Gideon and Belle were about to help them, the wind shifted, causing the old house to creak and—the Frenchs would swear by it—laugh. It was a deep mocking sound, almost childlike but much more sinister.

“Well that’s not ominous at all.” Gideon said, standing a bit too closely to his mum than a 17-year-old boy usually would.

“Sorry about that.” Mary Margaret apologized as she trotted back up the stairs. “Early autumn is always when these bursts of winds pick up.”

“And the foreshadowing of doom?” Gideon deadpanned, staring at the realtor uneasily.

Mary Margaret frowned and seemed to pale a bit. “I…”

Belle stepped between her and her son. “Pay him no mind. Would you like to come in?”

“No!” Mary Margaret gasped, causing Belle and the boys to jump. “I mean…I…we can’t. We have…other houses to go to.”

Beside her Neal rolled his eyes.

“Come along Neal.” Mary Margaret said in a sickeningly sweet tone.

Neal looked like he wanted to say something but was dragged back to the truck.

Belle and Gideon stared after the car before turning back to the house. Their new home.

“It’s not too late to buy plane tickets to Australia.” Gideon told his mother. “Maybe I’ll like the Outback.”

Belle almost agreed with him, but her mother’s words rang through her mind.

_Do the brave thing and bravery will follow._

It had worked when she was pregnant, it would work with her new home.

“A little wind isn’t going to scare me away. Come on, let’s see what the inside looks like.”

“Oh come on!” Gideon whined as Belle dragged him through the front door.

Luckily the inside of the house wasn’t nearly as disastrous as the outside would have it perceived, though there were some obvious problems that Belle could address just from an initial observation.

The wood floors were in need of a polishing and the walls of washing. Luckily, the furniture that had come with the house had been covered and in great condition, abet a few decades outdated.

“How about we start with paint and cleaning supplies and go from there?”

Lighting one of the decorative candelabras (which Gideon found hilariously dramatic), they headed upstairs.

“It’s colder than a politician’s heart up here!” Gideon seethed, shivering as they reached the bedrooms.

“We’ll sleep downstairs tonight by the fire.” Belle amended. “This looks like the master bedroom.”

They stepped inside, holding the candle away from the plastics covering the furniture. It was spacious enough and the bed seemed to be a good size.

Belle sat the candle on top of the dresser and led her son to the bed. Together they jumped on top of it to test the mattress, an instant mistake they realized when they nearly sunk to their deaths and choked on the dust.

Belle arched off the bed when something stabbed her thigh.

“What the…”

Gideon scooted over, feeling the mattress. “I think it’s a loose spring.”

Belle pressed down until the tip of the “spring” was pressing into her palm.

“Gideon, press the mattress down why I try to pull it out.” Belle requested.

Gideon pushed down until the tip of the object burst further from mattress. Both he and his mother were surprised to find the tip of something much thicker than a spring pointing up at them.

“It…looks like the tip of a knife.” theorized Belle. She circled the opening to stretch it out.

“You could be touching a murder weapon!” Gideon hissed.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” said Belle as she stretched the hole just enough to pull the knife out of the mattress. Belle finally presented a heavy, wavy knife that glinted in the limited light.

“Whoa.” Gideon exclaimed. “Who would hide this here?”

Belle shook her head, turning the strange knife over in her hand.

“There’s something written on it.” Belle said, feeling the shape of the indented letters.

Gideon shot around, swearing he heard a sound come from across the room.

Belle lifted the dagger to the light, tracing the letters as she sounded them out.

“Rum…ple…st…stiltskin?”

“What?”

Belle and Gideon shot around to see a man standing in the doorway. Belle quickly jumped in front of her son and Gideon gripped her shoulders.

“Who…who are you? Why are you in my house?”

“ _You’re_ house? You poor confused dear.”

The man stepped into the room, the dim lights bouncing off the strange substance on his skin. Belle stared at his strange leather clothing and scaly skin, the feel of Gideon against her back the only thing keeping her calm.

“What are you?” Gideon asked.

The corner of the man’s smirking mouth twitched.

“My my what a rude question.” The man said with a disapproving click of his tongue. “I’m not a what.”

“You sure?” Gideon muttered.

“I don’t care what you are.” Belle growled. “Get out of my house before I call the police.”

The man giggled. “Quite the waste of a call dearie.” He took a step forward and Belle pushed Gideon onto the bed, turning quickly to grab the knife from the floor and point it at the intruder.

“Stay back!”

The man stopped, his amused smirk fading quickly.

“I’ll take that!” He exclaimed, snatching the blade from her hand. “You shouldn’t play with knives dearie! You’ll get _cut!”_

Belle stepped firmly between her and her son, leaving just enough of a gap for him to run if things got violent.

“I don’t know who you are or how long you’ve been squatting here,” Belle spoke, “but this is our home now. You need to leave. I’ll…help you get where you need to go—”

“Seriously mom? Now is not the time to be charitable!” Gideon hissed behind her.

“But that’s it.” Belle finished.

The man smirked bitterly, leaning against the ancient dresser, rubbing the knife between his hands.

“Trust me dearie, I’d like nothing more than to leave this place. Unfortunately for us both, that’s not possible.”

“And just why not?”

He glanced briefly at the dagger straightened his stance, scoffing when Belle jumped.

“I supposed introductions are in order.” He bowed with a flourish, confusing mother and son both.

“I’m Rumplestiltskin.” He sang, the name rolling off his tongue unnaturally. He lifted his head and smirked at the duo. “Consider me your residential haunter…until _you_ leave, that is.”

“Our what?” Belle exclaimed.

“I’m bound to this house, have been for some time.” He stated with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s _mine_.”

“As in bound by a contract or something?” Gideon asked.

“Or something.” Rumplestiltskin scoffed.

Belle recognized a deep-seated bitterness in his voice and almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

He was still an intruder in her home after all.

“I don’t believe this.” Belle scoffed.

“Oh believe it dearie.” Rumplestiltskin growled. “Believe it and be scared!”

“Threatening me won’t do you any good.” Belle fought.

“And denying what is happening before you won’t help you escape the inevitable, dearie!” Rumplestiltskin fought back.

“Inevitable what?” Belle shouted. “What is going on?”

Rumplestiltskin exuberantly rolled his eyes. “I don’t have time to go over every detail with you dearie!”

“Yeah you do.” Gideon said. “You just said you were a ghost.”

Rumplestiltskin glared at Gideon. “I’m real enough to teach you some manners boy!”

“No!” Belle shouted, rushing towards to tackle him. She underestimated the distance between them and tripped over the carpet. She braced for the impact of the hard floor but was shocked when she fell into a pair of cold arms, her face landing into an equally cold chest. She gasped at the feel, feeling like she was drowning in ice water. She looked up and found a surprising warmth in his wide, reptilian gold eyes, but the cold from his form was more overpowering and his hands were slowly trying to phase through her arms.

“Mom!” Gideon cried, carefully grabbed Belle at the elbows and pulling her from Rumplestiltskin’s grip.

Rumplestiltskin’s shocked looked faded quickly and he howled with laughter, smirking gleefully at her son’s glare.

“You are bold dearie, I’ll give you that. But be careful where you hurl yourself in this house. You might get _hurt_.”

“Mom, let’s just go before he really hurts us.” Gideon hissed in her ear.

A high-pitched maniacal sound left Rumplestiltskin’s throat. “I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to, boy. The dead can’t harm the living! What a stupid thought.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Will you just leave us alone?”

He pondered for a moment and then shrugged. “No.”

“No?”

“As I’ve said, it’s my house and I _hate_ uninvited guests. I can’t harm you, but I won’t let you make yourselves comfortable here.”

“You think you can scare us off?” Belle scoffed.

“I know I can, and I’m going to enjoy doing it.”

With that said, her strutted past her and Belle shuttered at the coolness that followed. The moment he was past the doorway the lights went off and Belle in her son were drowned in candlelight once more.

“Son of a bitch!” Gideon gasped, falling back on his mother’s bed.

“Language.” Belle said instinctively, but her mind was focused more on the creature that had just shaken her to the core. This was unbelievable! Did Mrs. Nolan know about him? Did she really sell her a “haunted” house?

She had half a mind to march down to her office and rip her a new one, but that would hardly do her any good tonight. Tomorrow morning maybe. Tonight, she needed to unpack and figure out a game plan. There was no way that thing was going to kick her out of her new home!

Still, there was Gideon’s safety to consider.

“What do you think?” Belle asked uncertainly.

“I think it’s going to take a lot more than a coat of paint and a few curtains to fix this.”

Belle scoffed, patting her son on the back. “I mean do you want to stay somewhere else tonight? I think there’s a B&B across town.”

Gideon gave his mother a sly smirk. “You’re not afraid, are you mum?”

“I’m more annoyed than anything.” Belle admitted, flopping down on the bed. “I wanted us to have a fresh start Gideon, a new beginning. And of course, I choose a haunted house to do it in.”

A light giggle echoed through the room and Gideon scooted closer to his mum…to protect her of course.

“This is going to be a nightmare.”

Belle sat up, looking around the room that was supposed to serve as her bedroom. She had planned to move a bookshelf in here. To bring out her mother’s teal and coral quilt for the bed. She had so many plans for this place, plans to make it her and Gideon’s. Could she still do it? It was a hard decision to make when her sole priority was to keep her son safe, even if it was from a creature that couldn’t hurt him.

Gideon noticed his mother’s pensive expression and mused on what to do. As much as he’d like to hightail it to the next town and never look back, he just couldn’t let his mom go through with that. His Grandma used to tell her to do the brave thing, it was time to do the same.

“Maybe we…sleep on it?”

Belle turned to her son, her brave boy who inherited the best parts of her.

“We’ll sleep downstairs tonight.” She said, taking her boy’s hand and heading downstairs.

Just above them, Rumplestiltskin the residential haunter watched from the staircase as his new house guests prepared their selves for bed. They were a funny duo, and far braver than the other people who had run screaming into the night the second they found out _their_ house was possessed.

He was a bit bitter that he hadn’t won on the first round, but was nowhere near ready to forfeit the challenge.

The French’s would leave, it would just take the right persuasion.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s mentions of suicide in this chapter so please be weary.

_“Monsters are born of pain, and grief, and loss, and anger. Your heart is full of them."_

**_"And?"_ **

_“And it makes you vulnerable.”_

-,-,-,-,-,-,-,-

“He’s staring at me again.” Gideon said through clenched teeth.

Belle dropped her spoon back into her cereal and shot around where their “residential haunter” sat crossed-legged on the ancient countertop.

“Hi!” the scaled man greeted with a sinister smirk.

Belle glared at him, wishing her gaze would wipe that look off his face.

She and Gideon had been living in the salmon mansion for nearly a week now, and what was supposed to be a fun, joyous occasion had been an all-out war.

Their furniture had arrived the day after they moved in and the loading crew had barely gotten everything through the front door before Rumplestiltskin scared them clear out of Storybrooke. Then he had the audacity to insult her taste in furniture!

Getting the house together was nearly impossible after that. The residential haunter had promised he was not going to let them get comfortable and so far he had kept his word.

At every turn Rumplestiltskin was there to cause an inconvenience. He would turn the power and water off right when they needed it most, make tools and supplies disappear, and most annoyingly, he was there to mind each and every project Belle and her son were trying to accomplish.

_“You cannot paint this room that horrid color!”_

_“You even think about putting that ugly dresser in there I’ll burn it into ash!”_

_“If I find one scuff mark on my hardwood I’ll throw all your clothes to the wind!”_

_“Be careful with my things!”_

Now, their house was a mess and horribly unfinished. On top of that Gideon and Belle had taken to sleeping in the living room because Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t let them sleep in the bedrooms.

Their morning began at the crack of dawn with the impish man singing off-key at the top of his lungs in the bathroom, waking Belle and Gideon from an already restless sleep. When they went into the bathroom to investigate, Rumplestiltskin emerged fully nude, his scaly body glistening from the steam of the hot water.

“Geez mate!” Gideon exclaimed.

Rumplestiltskin shrugged, seeming very comfortable in his nudity. “It’s not my fault your mother hasn’t done the laundry yet.”

“I’d be able to if you’d stop turning the washer and dryer off!” Belle fought, keeping her eyes on the residential haunter’s face like her life depended on it.

Trying to regain some normalcy, Belle proceeded to make her and Gideon breakfast, a task that was hindered when Rumplestiltskin emerged out of thin air to plop his (now dry and fully clothed) arse on her countertop. Belle ignored him, her cheeks still heated, and handed Gideon his bowl and the two tried to eat in peace, but the residential haunter kept making faces at Gideon over her shoulder, horrifying ones if Gideon’s expression was anything to go by.

“Is there something you want?” Belle hissed at him.

“Other than you to leave and never return?” he shrugged. “Being offered some of your perishables would be grand, considering I didn’t cave the walls on top of your sleeping bodies last night.”

“Ghosts can’t eat.” Gideon stated matter-of-factly.

“You don’t know what I can do boy.” Rumplestiltskin growled.

Belle shot up and stalked to the counter, pulled out a spare bowl and sloppily pouring him some the cereal and milk.

“Here.” She said with a plastic smile, shoving the bowl into his hands.

The residential haunter stared down at the bowl. “You expect me to eat this how?”

Belle rolled her eyes and grabbed a spare spoon, dropping it in the bowl. _“Here!”_

Rumplestiltskin smiled down at the bowl. “Thank you, dearie.” He said before holding the bowl out and dropping the whole thing on the floor, causing the components to pan out and splatter on Belle’s slippers and pajama pants.

“What the hell!” Gideon gawked.

“I’m dead!” Rumple shrugged. “What use do I have with food?”

“Oh my God are you serious!”

Belle remained in a sticky shock, a thousand scenarios of murder running through her head. She knew he was just acting up to get at her, to make her want to leave, but she was not giving into his childish antics. She survived Gideon’s toddler years, and could survive this.

Without a word, she stepped out of her slippers and tiptoed her way to the hall bathroom to rinse off. Rumplestiltskin surprisingly stayed quiet, watching with interest as Belle struggled not to leave milk and flakes on the hardwood.

It wasn’t until Belle made it to the bathroom and couldn’t get the water to come on that his silence broke and he let out a gleeful giggle.

“Why isn’t the water coming on!” Belle shouted from the bathroom.

“Oh, sorry dearie! Must have used it all this morning!”

Belle stuck her head around the corner. “Turn. It. Back. On.”

Rumplestiltskin leaned in until his face was barely a foot from hers. “Nnnno!”

Belle lifted her hand, possibly to attack him, but Gideon jumped from his chair to call her off.

“Mom stop!”

Her son’s frantic voice kept her at bay and she stepped back, her glare never leaving the pest of her new home.

“There’s some bottles of water in the car. Just…hang on.” Gideon said as he rushed out the back door.

With her son now safely out of the way, Belle stepped as close and threateningly to Rumplestiltskin as she could without touching him (which she couldn’t technically do but still).

“What is your deal?” she growled at him.

“I said I wasn’t going to let you get comfortable.” He fought back. “If you’ve had enough I’ll be happy to help you pack.”

Belle seethed, having just about enough of her “residential haunter”. However, her motherly instincts kicked in and she remembered the “kill them with kindness” mantra she used to recite to Gideon when he was a little boy.

 “You know,” Belle smirked. “I’m starting to think you enjoy having us around.”

Rumplestiltskin’s confident stance melted in an instant, his expression projecting horror.

“Why on earth or any realm would you think that? I tell you twice a day I want you gone!”

“True, but your methods are more annoying than terrifying.”

“If you’d _like_ me to change my methods I’d be glad to!”

“I would like a change.” Belle said. “I’d like us to live together in some sort of harmony.”

For once, Rumplestiltskin was silent, confused at the angle she was going for.

“Whether you like it or not,” Belle said, “Gideon and I are here to stay. And if you’re here to stay as well, then why don’t we try to be friends?”

Something in Rumplestiltskin’s expression changed, softened his violent features. But then a flash of darkness swallowed the softness whole and he snarled at her.

“In your dreams.”

Before Belle could try to reason with him, the back door opened and Gideon returned with an armful of water bottles.

He paused when he saw the lack of distance between his mom and house-haunter.

“Everything…okay?”

Rumplestiltskin jumped from the counter, brushing past Belle and disappearing from the room.

Belle sighed and sagged into one of the chairs exhaustedly.

Gideon approached her cautiously, sitting the bottles on the table. “That B&B gaining any appeal?”

Belle smiled tiredly, turning to take her son’s hand. “Actually I think I’m starting to break him a little.”

“Really.”

“I don’t know. Find a rag and take a couple of these with you to the upstairs bathroom. We’ll have to rely on rag-baths until SOMEONE TURNS THE BLOODY WATER ON!”

 _“Not bloody likely you cow!”_ Rumplestiltskin’s voice echoed.

Just as Belle was about to yell back, the doorbell (amazingly one of the few things Rumplestiltskin kept functioning) echoed throughout the house.

Belle and Gideon exchanged curious looks. Since their arrival in Storybrooke, the only people who would make solid conversation with were the elderly dinner owner and the soon-to-retire librarian.

“So much for small-town hospitality.” Gideon would joke each time they braced the townspeople weary stares.

“They just have to get used to us.” Belle would say, though she was greatly discouraged that they were being treated so coldly.

With this cold reception, they were immensely surprised to find their petrified-looking real-estate agent and another man on their porch, tin foiled-covered dish in his arms.

“Hi…” Belle greeted uncertainly.

“Hi.” The man greeted with a charming smile. “I’m David Nolan, Mary Margaret’s husband.”

“Oh.” Belle nodded. “It’s nice to meet you.” She reached for David’s hand, and he looked cautiously inside the house before he balanced the pan and took it.

She glanced at Gideon whose attention was focused on the Nolan’s truck.

“Is Neal here?” Belle asked, concealing her smirk when Gideon shot her a look.

“No, he’s at home today.” David said, giving a small smile to Neal. “You’ll see him at school once the break’s over.”

Gideon made a nonchalant sound but Belle could tell he was disappointed.

“These are for you.” David said to change the subject. “Would you mind taking them in? We wanted to talk to your mother a moment.”

“I’m not ten.” Gideon grumbled.

“Thank you, Gideon.” Belle said with a definite air.

Gideon sighed and took the tray from Mr. Nolan and stomped inside.

“I’ve been meaning to call you.” Belle directed towards Mary Margaret.

“About?” Mary Margaret inquired with a sense of urgency, causing her husband to put a gentle hand on the small of her back.

Belle stepped onto the porch and closed the door, hoping that her son and her residential haunter were out of earshot.

“Our house is haunted.” Belle stated without hesitance. “It…he’s a poltergeist of some sort. He can control the house. The lights, the water, even the machines.”

Both the Nolans stared at her and Belle hoped they didn’t have the number to an asylum in their phones.

“I know this sounds crazy but-”

“You’ve seen him?” Mary Margaret gasped. “You’ve seen Mr. Gold?”

“Has he hurt you or your son?” David jumped in.

Belle wasn’t sure what was stranger: the fact that the Nolans believed her or that they had the wrong ghost. How many houses in this town were haunted?

“Um…I’ve seen Rumplestiltskin but there is no Mr. Gold here.”

“Who?” the Nolans asked in unison.

This was more exhausting than dealing with the ghost!

“His name is Rumplestiltskin. He wears leather and has gold scales. He’s also utterly annoying but not necessarily dangerous.”

The Nolan’s looked just as confused as Belle felt. Mary Margaret sighed and shifted through her purse, pulling out a small manila envelope and pulling out its components.

“Does he look anything like this?”

Belle took the crumpled-up newspaper clipping and looked at the gray, wrinkled face in the photo. It took her a moment to connect the face with Rumplestiltskin’s but ultimately it was the shape of his nose and sad eyes that gave him away.

The man looking back at her was her residential haunter. He was a man once, a human being with thoughts and fears. It wasn’t until now that he seemed less like a figment and more human. It was almost enough to bring her to tears.

“What happened to him?” Belle asked quietly, keeping her eyes on the picture.

“He…took his own life.” David said carefully.

Belle’s gaze shot from the paper to the Nolans. She couldn’t grasp the idea that the borderline sociopathic man-child haunting her could do something like that. She had never really wondered how he died, just accepted that he was here and that he wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

She blinked back tears of sympathy and straightened her spine. “Do you have any idea why?”

Mary Margaret shrugged. “No one knew much about his personal life. He was so…bitter and cold. No one was really sad to see him go.”

Both David and Belle stared in shock at Mary Margaret.

“I just meant that no one went to his funeral!” Mary Margaret defended quickly. “He wasn’t well-liked.”

Belle took a calming breath through her nose. “What about his family?”

“He…had a son.” David shrugged. “But...”

A loud crash from upstairs cut David off. A chair from the main bedroom and a shower of broken glass rained down and covered the yard, causing Belle and the Nolans to scream and take cover.

“Mom!” Gideon yelled from inside.

Belle shot into the house, meeting her son in the middle of the stairs. He wasn’t hurt but he looked terrified.

“Something’s wrong.” He said. “He just started screaming and throwing things.”

Belle glanced back at the Nolans who were watching just outside the house, afraid to step over the threshold.

“You should go.” She said to them, racing up the stairs before finding out if they had listened.

Sounds of glass and wood breaking echoed through the main bedroom. With each crash Belle could feel his pain, feel the years of anguish and loneliness vibrate through the walls.

Suddenly it all stopped, and it was so quiet.

And the quiet was more terrifying than the laughter.

“Stay out here.” Belle warned her son.

“Mom no!” Gideon cried.

Belle placed a comforting hand on his cheek before moving in, twisting the knob and finding it unlocked, as if Rumplestiltskin wanted her comfort after all.

She had to push it open as the dresser had been pushed in front of it. The whole room had been torn to shreds, the furniture destroyed, the walls embedded with claw marks. She found the residential haunter sitting on the clawed bed, slouched over, intertwined hands shaking.

“What’s wrong?” Belle asked quietly.

Rumplestiltskin shook his head, his jaw clenched tight.

“They had no right.” He hissed. “Who the hell do they think they are telling you about _me_!”

Belle stepped forward, leaning on the post of the bed. “They were just trying to help—”

“They were trying to appease their own guilt!” he yelled at her, jumping from the bed and pacing the floor.

 “What can I do?” she pleaded to him. “How can I help you?”

“Help me what?” he laughed wetly. He shot around with a flourish, pointing at her with one of his dark talons. “ _Move on? Go to the light? Meet my maker!”_

“No…I…”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he snarled, slowly advancing towards her. “You’d like me to disappear from your life for good so that you and your _spawn_ could take over?”

A twinge of anger shot through Belle’s heart. _No one_ talked about her son that way.

“I get your upset, but you need to shut your mouth and calm the hell down.”

The residential haunter scoffed, falling back on the bed. “I’m _dead_ , dearie.”

Belle rolled her eyes and the two were silent. He was so stubborn and despite how whimsical he acted, he was in so much pain. She had to help him somehow, even if it was just to bring him a moment’s peace.

She carefully approached the bed, taking a seat close to him. He glanced at her, stiffening from the close contact.

“Tell me what happened.” she whispered, giving him one of the comforting smiles that always made Gideon open up when he was upset.

Rumplestiltskin sat up, staring at some point on the wall and shrugged. “I took that dagger you found and slit my throat with it. Not much more to tell really.”

Belle shivered from his callousness but pressed on. “There’s always more. And you can tell, I won’t judge you.”

He remained quiet, keep his eyes averted.

Belle took a deep breath and picked at what she knew would be his deepest wound.

“Tell me about your son.”

He blinked, the only recognition that he heard her.

“Do you need help contacting him? Do you know where he is?”

A small smile spread on Rumplestiltskin’s tightly-woven lips. “He’s where all good boys go.”

Belle felt her blood run cold. “He’s…”

“Dead.” Rumplestiltskin snarled, his lip shaking. He jumped up from the bed, moving to the window. “Car accident.” He spoke quietly. “He was gone instantly.”

Belle glanced at the door where she was certain her son was listening in. She felt the strong urge to run out there and wrap him in her arms and use her body to shield him from the disasters and violence of the world.

“You killed yourself so you could be with him.” Belle clarified.

Rumplestiltskin giggled, a wet heavy noise that sounded more like a scream than laughter. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“I’m sorry.” Belle said, the only thing she could think to say. “I’m so sorry.”

Rumplestiltskin turned to her, his glassy eyes searching her face for the falsity. No one cared whether he was in pain or not. That Nolan woman said so herself. Why was Belle different?

“You know the worst of the worst about me now dearie.” He said. “This house is my own personal Hell, the place I have to stay to pay for my cowardliness. I even took on this beastly form to go accompany my sentence. A few others have come in and tried to make it theirs, but I’ve always gotten them out within a weeks’ time.” He turned to her with a small, almost prideful smile.

“And now there’s you. You still refuse to run away. I admire your bravery, yours and your boy’s. But…” he shook his head, the words he was about to speak weighing down his tongue. “you need to leave. You and your son deserve a home to call your own, and I can’t give you that.”

Belle allowed him to say what he needed to, but found it to be a sincerer rendition of what she’d heard before. He wanted her gone because he felt like he deserved to be alone.

She stood and strode to him.

“First off, suicide is not cowardly.” Belle growled, her voice shaking. “You lost a child. You did the only thing you thought you could to end the pain.”

Rumplestiltskin bowed his head in a sense of gratitude.

“Secondly, I’m not going anywhere—hold on, let me finish what I’ve got to say.”

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes but allowed her demand.

“You’ve let this place become your prison, but it doesn’t have to be. I told you earlier that I was willing to make a home with you and I mean it. We can be a family.”

Rumplestiltskin bristled at the term, automatically rejecting such a concept.

“You’re making an indistinctly bold offer, dearie. Are you sure you want to pay the price that comes with it?”

Belle gave him a gentle smile, seeing the distress around his pupils. Without hesitation, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his cold form, holding in the embrace just loose enough so that he wouldn’t phase through her.

Rumplestiltskin stiffened, shocked by how warm she was and by the fact she was bloody hugging him! Did she really think that would butter him up and crush his dissolve?!

Well…maybe a bit…

The door opening caused Belle to pull back from him. Gideon stuck his head in, staring at the two with mixed disapproval.

“Again?” he said.

“It’s nothing!”

“We were just talking.”

Gideon rolled his eyes. “Anyway, the Nolans are still downstairs and they’re freaking out. Could you…”

“On it.” Belle said, giving Rumplestiltskin one last pat on the shoulder before exiting the room.

Gideon and the residential haunter stared at each other when she left, neither quite sure how to begin.

“So…” Gideon said. “I heard pretty much all of that and I have to say this whole thing is bloody insane.”

Rumplestiltskin snorted. Though his opinion of Belle’s sarcastic and disgruntled son was moderate, he appreciated his laidback disposition on such matters.

Gideon wasn’t sure what he could say. He had heard Rumplestiltskin bare his soul to his mother and didn’t think there was anything to add that she hadn’t.

“So…wanna go downstairs and make dinner or something?”

“Ghost don’t eat.” Rumplestiltskin mocked.

Gideon shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you can’t sit at the table, geez.”

Rumplestiltskin was a bit taken aback from this unusual gentleness from Belles’s son. He wasn’t sure how to handle this shift of love and kindness from them. It was unnerving.

“I’ll…wait for them to leave.” He nodded below.

“Fair enough.” Gideon nodded, closing the door slightly.

He was alone again, but it sickened Rumplestiltskin just how unhinged he felt about it now. The French’s were a poison to his accustomed way of (un)life, but also an elixir to his bleak afterlife.

A week ago he wanted them gone so that he could continue his lonely existence. Now the idea of them being gone filled his unbeaten heart with dread.

How sickeningly human he had become.

He rolled his eyes, trying to bury the feelings. He couldn’t focus on them now. He might as well join the damned French’s for dinner. Maybe he’d flick peas at Gideon to make himself feel better.

With an aggravated sigh, he snapped his fingers and the house came back to life, the lights and appliances turning on. He supposed he could offer them this small luxury as an olive branch.

He glanced around the destroyed bedroom, the room he had spent so many lonely nights in. The room Belle wanted to claim as her own.

He smirked in his mischievous impish way and with a wave of his hand it was back in one piece.

She could have it now.

 


End file.
